


Scherzo

by frostandcrow



Series: Espansivo [9]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Heists, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Or Season 4, Probably not season 3 compliant, ft terrible innuendo, plot as an excuse for cuddles, sick!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostandcrow/pseuds/frostandcrow
Summary: The crew tries to get back to their usual shenanigans and Peter is late to the Jovian Influenza party.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Series: Espansivo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1319159
Comments: 33
Kudos: 194





	Scherzo

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, look, I can explain. I KNOW I said that Fermata was the last story in the Espansivo series, but you see, I have a perfectly good explanation here: I'm a big, fat liar. 
> 
> Just a heads up: I make several references in this fic to other fics in this series, though I don’t think it’s necessary to read them to enjoy this one. 
> 
> Also, I haven't listened to season 3 yet (it's complicated). The only thing I've accidentally gleaned from the internets is that Jet is, canonically, a wickedly talented haggler. So, other than that, this is very much not canon-compliant. Probably.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

One of Juno’s closely held opinions was that it was stupid to claim that it was “flu season” aboard their ship given their very limited population and the lack of any climate shifts that would suggest seasonality. However, despite his many objections—or perhaps because of them—Rita continued to use the term to refer to their crew’s unfortunate plight and, to Juno’s irritation, it had stuck. 

That the illness—diagnosed by Vespa as “just the Common Jovian Influenza, you guys, suck it up”—had also stuck with him personally only compounded his irritation further. The flu had actually hit Vespa first. Juno suspected this was the main reason that her bedside manner was even more violent than usual when she tended to them as the virus hopped from her to Buddy to Jet to Rita and then to Juno.

Peter, the jerk, appeared to have been spared.

“Oh, I suspect I must have contracted it before. My immune system has a memory nearly as good as my own,” he mentioned to Juno one night as the latter groused about how unfair it was that Peter had sneakily avoided the virus like the sneaky thief he was.

In retrospect, his fever had likely been quite high when he’d accused Peter of this. It was hard to remember.

What he did remember, however, was the cool cloth upon his forehead that was exchanged frequently for a fresh one so that it never became clammy, the frequent offerings of hot tea with enough honey to drown out the bitter plant flavor, and the soft, soothing voice that penetrated and calmed his restless dozing.

He was no stranger to falling ill. But this time was…almost nice.

Everyone took it easy for a couple of days—Juno, whose immune system was as dumb as Nureyev’s was smart, was laid low for nearly two weeks before the intermittent shaking chills resolved and his coughing no longer felt like it was going to jar his skeleton from his skin—and recovered without incident.

And then it hit Peter.

—————————————————————————

The heist was a simple one, more for the sake of boredom than any real objective: as the fevers from Jovian Influenza resolved, cabin fever started to take hold. Buddy, the seasoned leader she was, recognized obligatory distraction when it was needed.

The perfect excuse for a larcenous outing presented itself when Jet announced that their ship needed a new thruster. Weeks without a heist had left them short on creds and Jet had refused to use his advanced haggling skills to cheat someone out of a fair price for the required parts.

In their brainstorming session to find a person to bankroll their ship’s upgrade, the crew settled on finding an actual banker. It didn’t take Rita very long to learn that Claudius Astra had taken a vacation to The Astra, one of the casinos he owned on Aegaeon, which was a planet he also owned.

(To be fair, they were very likely going to take a bit more than what was strictly needed for new engine parts. But, they had taken a vote and, unanimously, none of the crew felt any moral qualms about this other than Vespa who’d voted to remove every cred the guy had.)

Juno sat at a Meridian Poker table, making sure to maintain his slouching posture so that his roving eye appeared to be out of boredom. His job was to look pretty while he waited for Peter, masquerading as a server, to slip the key to the hotel’s penthouse out of the pocket of a very rich and not very scrupulous banker and into Juno’s.

In a move so subtle and smooth that even Juno, who knew to watch for it, almost missed, Peter snuck one hand into the inner lapel of Cladius’ jacket as the tycoon absently grabbed a drink from Peter’s tray, engrossed in the attention of a stunningly beautiful woman whose striking red hair covered half of her face.

Peter spun gracefully and started to casually make his way to the next guest, who, conveniently, was to be Juno.

Or rather, that was the plan.

  
What actually happened was something that none of them had thought to plan for.

Peter stumbled.

It was such an out-of-character action that Juno reflexively looked for the person who’d shoved or tripped him. Going by the shocked faces of everyone in the vicinity, there was no guilty party.

There was a moment of stunned silence. And then:

“Hey! Hey! That’s my room card! Security! That man just…just pickpocketed me!” Claudius' voice rose in pitch as his outrage increased and Juno saw Buddy wince.

Peter, still sprawled on the ground, looked at Cladius, eyes wide in panic. Juno couldn’t tell if it was an act. “What, no, I assure you—“

“Security, arrest that man!”

Peter dropped the facade and quickly got to his feet, briefly gripping the edge of a table nearby to help steady himself. “My goodness, your thugs move quickly, don’t they?” His voice, unlike his stance, was steady and there wasn’t the faintest trace of fear as he appraised the group of uniformed men drawing closer from all sides.

Blaster fire rang out, startling Juno back into awareness. “Juno, Jet! Time for Plan B, darlings!” Buddy continued to fire her blaster into the ceiling, ignoring the plaster dust raining down and the panicked crowd now trying to engage in a mass exodus. Her sudden action also startled the security guards, but it was clear that they were quickly regaining their bearings and confidence: given their numbers, two targets was hardly more of a challenge than just one.

“Plan B? Did we even _have_ a Plan B?” Juno shouted back at her.

“We do now, Juno,” called Jet from several tables away. He also started firing his own blaster upwards. “Distract and scatter! We will meet up at our rendezvous site!”

“Did we even _have_ a rendezvous site?” Juno grumbled under his breath. He drew his own blaster and started firing. He saw that Peter had already made a dash for the kitchen, likely planning to escape the building through the service door.

There was clearly something wrong with Peter. Had he gotten poisoned again? The last time he had been so unexpectedly unsteady on his feet had been that first museum heist of theirs months ago.

Juno desperately wanted to follow after Peter. Unfortunately, there were multiple tables, a mass of panicking casino patrons, and several large security guards between Juno and the kitchen.

He grit his teeth, mind made up. He figured that he had probably taken on worse odds for worse reasons at some point in his past.

Just as he shifted his weight in preparation to run the gauntlet, he felt a tug on his shoulder and a calm voice at his side. “Come, Juno. Our exit is over here.”

“What? But—“ He saw Jet dash through the kitchen doors, hot on Peter’s trail and with several security guards hot on his. “Fine,” he muttered, relieved slightly that Peter was in going to be in good company. He followed Buddy, weaving through the crowd and continuing to fire his blaster upwards every couple of seconds to perpetuate the chaos used to cloak their escape.

————————————————————————

The impromptu rendezvous spot was apparently wherever Vespa ended up finding them in the Ruby 7. To Juno’s dismay, this was about twenty blocks north of the casino. His gown was drenched in sweat and his high-heeled boots—one of his more practical pairs, but clearly not intended to be worn during mad dashes through busy streets—had rubbed the back of his heels raw.

“That was a waste,” snarled Vespa as Juno collapsed into the back seat and Buddy more gracefully folded into the front one. “What the hell happened back there, Bud?”

“I’m not sure, Vespa.”

“Something happened to Nureyev,” wheezed Juno.

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Buddy turned to Vespa. “Have you heard from Jet, dear?”

“Nope, but Rita’s got a lock on his comms.” Vespa jerked the car into gear and peeled back into traffic, weaving in and out of cars at breakneck speed and with whiplash maneuvers. Juno’s breathlessness was replaced by nausea and he gripped the handle above him—which he was positive hadn’t been there before, bless the Ruby 7—and tried to breathe through his nose.

“Are you sure _you_ should be the one driving?” Juno asked.

“Oh, sure,” Vespa growled through clenched teeth as she maneuvered simultaneously over three lanes and up two levels. “Let me pull over and let you drive. I’m sure Jet and Nureyev would be just fine waiting for _weeks_ for us to get to them.”

The Ruby 7 chirped happily, clearly agreeing with Vespa.

“I wouldn’t take that long,” Juno grumbled to himself as he slouched backwards as best he could while still hanging on for dear life.

The comms in Buddy’s hand started chiming. “Vespa, dear, exit here. It looks as if…yes, I believe they are about three blocks away.”

Vespa jerked the Ruby 7 onto the exit ramp and didn’t bother decelerating as they bounced on concrete and blasted through a red light.

“There!”

“I see ‘em, Bud.”

The Ruby 7 trilled as it skidded to a halt near an alley. There were several people in the casino’s security guard uniform crouched behind a run-down car at the mouth of the alley. One would occasionally peek out and fire a couple of shots into the alley before ducking down only to have another from a different position pop up to do the same.

The continuous barrage of shots fired into the alley greatly outnumbered the occasional return fire from within. It was enough to keep Claudius’ men from advancing, but barely.

The Ruby 7 had only barely stopped moving before Vespa and Buddy leapt out, each firing their blasters at the men, their aim unobscured by any obstacles.

Juno figured that they could easily handle the half-dozen or so men without his help. He still didn’t trust his own aim, especially with two crew members intermingled among his potential targets.

He also wanted to get to Peter as quickly as he could.

Holding his blaster in both hands, he stayed crouched low as he ran into the alley.

And was nearly shot for his troubles.

“Hey! It’s me!” he shouted, sounding more panicked than he liked.

“That was very reckless of you Juno,” called Jet from the shadows. Juno could barely make out his silhouette, but it was clear that he was still pointing his gun at Juno.

“Yeah, I see that now. You can drop the gun, you kno—ack!”

Blaster fire blew past his face. Just as he was about to double down on his indignation, he heard a grunt as a person behind him collapsed.

Jet now lowered his gun. “My apologies, Juno. It appeared that he was trying to take advantage of your distraction.”

“Sure. Thanks, Big Guy.” Juno jogged forward. “Is—“ he stopped himself before using Peter’s name. He wasn’t sure how many of Claudius’ men would be alive to report back, but that was a risk he did not want to take on Peter’s behalf. “Is _Aleph_ with you?”

“Yes, Juno. I’m here.”

Peter was sitting against the alley wall behind the dumpster that he and Jet had been using for cover. He appeared almost entirely at ease. Juno dropped to his knees and ran his hands over Peter, searching for injury. “Aleph, what happened back there? Were you poisoned? Injured? How bad is it?”

“No, nothing quite so dramatic, I’m afraid.”

Juno stilled. “What?”

“I believe he is unwell,” answered Jet. He turned to Peter, “Aleph. Can you stand?”

“With some assistance, I suspect I can manage.”

“‘Unwell’? What the hell do you mean, ‘unwell.’”

“He is not well,” clarified Jet calmly. He reached down to grab Peter’s extended elbow. Peter got to his feet and remained standing shakily, but under his own power.

Juno rose from his crouch. “I was asking for clarification, Big Guy, not a definition.”

Peter sighed. “I think…I may have contracted the Jovian Influenza.”

————————————————————————

The crew, most of whom were still wired and on edge after their failed heist, assembled in the kitchen for dinner and debriefing.

“He’s not _sick_ sick, is he?” Rita, one of the first to arrive at the table, asked worriedly. “I mean, after all he went through with that explosion a coupl’a weeks ago and his bones breakin’ all the time, I thought the guy’d catch a break—“

“I am sure he will be fine,” interrupted Jet gently.

“Yeah, but still. Ain’t fair is all.”

“Fair? It wasn’t fair that _he_ seemed to be the only one the stupid virus missed.” Juno tried to keep his voice petulant, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Be nice, Mista’ Steel. You should know better than most of us that bein’ sick isn’t very fun.”

“I didn’t say it was, Rita.”

“Take it easy on Juno, darling.” said Buddy as she swept into the room, her ball gown exchanged for a more practical garment. “He tends to mask his concern with aloof bluster.” Any sharpness in the meaning of the words was assuaged by her playful tone.

“I know, Miss Buddy, but that don’t mean that he _should_.”

“I’m _right here_ you know.”

“Exactly,” said Rita as if she’d won the argument. “So now you know that your bluster ain’t gonna fool me _or_ Miss Buddy.”

Juno made a frustrated noise. “That’s…that’s not even…” he sputtered, trying to frame a coherent response to Rita’s erratic leaps of logic.

Rita patted his hand in commiseration. “There, there, Boss. Maybe after this you can take a nice nap and get your head back on straight. An’ if a nap don’t work, I know a real good chiropractor back in Hyperion who could help. He’s a real pro at straightening heads and stuff.”

“My head is fine.”

“Yeah, we’ve all heard the evidence of that, Steel.” Juno jumped slightly at Vespa’s sudden appearance. “These walls aren’t as thick as you think.”

Juno felt his face flush violently and buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, that’s _not_ what we were talking about.”

“I figured. But my point still stands.”

“I think this is it,” Juno whispered miserably to himself, “I think this is what _actually_ kills me.”

He felt a small hand rub his back consolingly. “Well, you don’t have ta worry ‘bout me, Boss. I usually just turn the stream up real loud to drown everythin’ else out. Works like a charm!”

“Can we _please_ change the subject?”

“Agreed,” said Buddy drily. Juno peaked through his fingers and saw that she was leaning back in her chair and watching the proceedings dispassionately but with the slightest up-quirk of the corner of her lips.

“Fine. How about this topic?” Vespa tossed a jeweled piece of leather onto the table.

“Oh! Pretty!” cooed Rita. “What is it?”

“It’s a wallet.”

Juno gaped. “That’s not…”

Vespa huffed. “It is. It’s that rich parasite’s wallet.”

“Vespa, darling, how did you get this?”

“It was Nureyev, wasn’t it?” Juno asked, rhetorically.

“Have you counted the creds within it?” Jet asked Vespa.

“Yeah. I think there’s enough to get a decent thruster.”

They watched as Rita reached for it and, after spending a couple of seconds admiring the jewels adorning the outside, started leafing through the currency within. As she counted, Buddy announced, “Well, I suppose that, while our original plan has failed, our primary objective has been accomplished.” Then, mostly to herself, she added, “Impressive.”

“Just don’t tell Nureyev that,” grouched Vespa. “Trust me. He knows _exactly_ how impressive this little trick of his is.”

“I’ll say,” said Rita in awe. “I think there’s _way_ more than we need for a thruster in here.” She gasped in excitement. “We could buy _three_ thrusters!”

“I do not believe it would be cost-effective to purchase two additional thrusters at this time.”

Vespa leered predatorily at Juno. “In that case, maybe we can spend what’s left on sound-proofing the cabins.”

Juno wondered if it was possible to literally die of rapid blood rush to his face.

—————————————————————————

The rest of the debriefing was mercifully short. The crew, sans Peter, made plans to plot a course to Draugr to meet with a contact of Jet’s who would be able to provide the ship with one of the highest quality thrusters that would meet their ship’s specifications.

Juno left as soon as he could, his face still tingling with a blush, and went in search of Peter. He mostly wanted to make sure he was okay, but a small part of him wanted to know if Peter knew that their crew was well aware of what the two of them often got up to during their down-time.

He doubted that there was any answer to this question that he’d like.

His first destination was the Med Bay, which was dark and uninhabited. He then made a detour to his cabin to pick up a couple of things before proceeding on to Peter’s cabin.

He rapped on the door softly, half-expecting Peter to be sleeping, and was surprised when he heard a hoarse voice call out, “Come in.”

Peter’s quarters were dimly lit. Even so, Juno could still make out the fever-bright flush on his cheeks.

“How’re you feeling?” Juno felt dumb as soon as the question left his mouth. The answer was pretty obvious.

“Wretched,” Peter admitted. “It’s been over a decade since I was last ill. I forgot how horrible it is.”

“Really? It’s been that long?” Juno sat on the edge of Peter’s bed near Peter’s hip and felt his forehead. It was dry and burning hot.

Peter shrugged listlessly. “As I said, I appear to have been blessed with a vigilant immune system.” He turned to cough into his shoulder and then sagged into his mattress. “I’m sorry Juno. I don’t believe I’ll be worthwhile company tonight.”

Juno felt his face start to flush again. “Yeah, remind me: we’re gonna have to talk about that.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Here.” Juno reached into his bag and pulled out what was left of the medication that had helped him weather his bout of the Jovian Flu.

Peter’s eyes crossed slightly as he forced his bleary gaze to focus on the label. “Thank you Juno, but I believe Vespa gave me a dose of that before she released me from the infirmary.”

“Sure, but now you’ll have a stock here to take so you won’t have to track Vespa down and beg her for more.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t make me beg.”

Juno just looked at him.

“Much,” Peter amended.

Juno huffed slightly in amusement and reached back into his bag. “This one really helps with cough.”

Peter peered at this new bottle for a moment. “I don’t believe I’ve had this one yet.”

“Probably because it came from my own stash. It’s a Marsian specialty. It works for Dust Croup just as well as it works for a cough caused by an infection.”

“I don’t remember you taking this when you were sick last week.”

“Eh, my cough then wasn’t really that bad.”

“ _Wasn’t that bad_? Juno, there were days last week when you’d hardly go five minutes without coughing.”

Juno looked at him, confused. “Yeah, like I said, it wasn’t too bad.”

“Juno, that’s…terrible.”

Juno shrugged. “Yeah, well, when you have shitty lungs…Anyway, here. Sit up a bit and take a dose. I think it’ll help you sleep.”

Juno uncapped the medicine and poured out a measure. Peter tipped it back, grimacing at the taste.

Juno turned back to his bag to grab the final item. “Lastly, and most importantly…” Juno passed Peter a bottle of chilled water. “Someone taught me not too long ago that it is important to drink just absolutely _ridiculous_ amounts of water when you’re sick.”

Peter’s bark of surprised laughter turned into a brief cough. “Sounds like an excellent piece of wisdom,” Peter said, amusement coloring his otherwise gravelly post-coughing voice. “I suspect the person who taught you that is very wise.”

“He is,” Juno agreed, somberly. “I’ll never forget his words: ‘peeing kidneys are happy kidneys,’ he’d say.”

Peter, who had been sipping from the water bottle, squinted at him suspiciously. “I’m positive I have _never_ uttered such a sentence.”

“Really?” Juno asked in mock skepticism. “Huh. Well, you can’t blame a lady for mishearing things while ill.”

“I suppose. I’ll let it slide this time.” Peter placed the water onto his night stand and shifted slightly into a more comfortable position. The cough syrup tended to make Juno drowsy and he doubted Peter had the tolerance for such effects that Juno did.

“Do you want me to go?” Juno asked, softly.

“Only if you want,” Peter replied, likely less ambivalently than he was aiming for.

Juno stood to strip down to his boxers. “Okay. You’re gonna have to scooch over a bit.”

Peter’s eyes, which had drifted closed, opened in surprise. “You’re staying?”

“Yeah, what the heck. It’s not like I can catch this flu twice.” Juno slid between the covers. Peter curled onto his side facing Juno. There was space between them, but he still felt the heat radiating from Peter.

If the fever didn’t abate soon, he figured he’d have the perfect opportunity to try to match Peter’s prowess with a damp cloth.

——————————————————————

A bit later, Peter’s fitful dozing had deepened into a more restful slumber as his fever lessened. Just as Juno was falling asleep himself, he jerked awake suddenly.

_Could a person catch Jovian Flu twice?_

This thought was followed by another, more terrifying one.

_If so, Vespa’s gonna_ kill _me._

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story about a month ago during the height of flu season here and before COVID-19 really hit in the US. 
> 
> You cats stay safe.


End file.
